


we're not bruised they're just party tattoos

by UnimpairedDreams



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, dodie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnimpairedDreams/pseuds/UnimpairedDreams
Summary: a onesho to dodie clark's 'party tattoos'





	we're not bruised they're just party tattoos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spoky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoky/gifts).



> i love this so im not sorry for it at all.  
> dedicated to spoky because i love their writing

_my mummy said to always wear a coat but it’s warm and its heavy and we’re trying to float_

_don’t forget, she’ll be right when it’s 3am, so shiver, but shiver with a friend_

it’s cold outside the club where they party in the dark and the pink chiffon lace of her dress isn’t pink anymore but that’s okay because it was cheap on amazon and what does she have to lose anyway other than her dignity and her friends. speaking of her friends, they left an hour ago and so she stumbles to the cafe across the street and orders a cheese pannini and a candyfloss latte because she likes pink and she doesn’t eat ham. A stranger slides into the booth and places herself across from trixie.  she sits there silently and it gives her some time to stare at her ruffled blonde hair and smudged eyeliner and red fishnets and she looks away intime for the stranger to speak. “so are you running too?”

_and we’re not bruised they’re just party tattoos and their colourfulness is just colourful regret_

_black lipstick will never be a sin, we’ll regret it when we’re older with wrinkled up skin_

the lipstick seems to get further across her face with every sip of her equally black coffee but the stranger doesn’t seem to mind so long as the cup isn’t marked, taking a few seconds to wipe away the residue after every few sips, trixie is too busy eating her panini to even realise that what she eventually digests is at least half pink pigment. “katya,” speaks the stranger, so slow and deliberate that she can’t be sure if she’s speaking to her or if she’s just confused but as the red clad woman looks at her, it becomes obvious it was trixie she was addressing. “trixie.”

_write a postcard to you at eighty four tell em you’d never dreamed of living behind a door_

_life was fun, full of hope, full of smiles, bet you wish you were here but I’ll see you in a while_

her blonde hair was a few shades darker than trixie’s own platinum locks, dirty and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. as she pulled away again, she spotted wrinkles on the skin, only visible up close but hidden by the sharp cheekbones and lipstick that in the midst of making out had travelled even further across her face, and trixie’s too if her reflextion in the windshield was anything to go by. She was pressed up against a white chevy, feet just clinging to the ground as katya stood over her, calmly adjusting to the quick change of pace. her shirt dropped just a tad around the cleavage letting trixie see the pink lipstick she’d marked around the collarbone. the music from the cafe was still whirring round her head even outside. 

_and we’re not bruised they’re just party tattoos and their colourfulness is just colourful regret_


End file.
